


Derek can be kind of a butthead but Stiles gets flustered easily

by ImagineYourself



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha Scott, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Christmas, Christmas Presents, First Time, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Getting Together, Love Confessions?, M/M, PWP, Pack Dynamics, Porn with a lot of Plot, Protective!Derek, Snark as a means of communication, case fic?, oblivious!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 10:52:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2848304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImagineYourself/pseuds/ImagineYourself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lost in his thoughts, it took Stiles a moment to realize that the werewolf's hand was suddenly splayed out on his chest, and a moment more to feel the car slowing down rapidly. He looked out the windshield, breath catching in a gasp. They came to a halt in time to see something crouching low outside. Derek growled a warning and the thing shot off into the woods. </p>
<p>“What the hell was that?” Stiles nearly screeched, his voice an octave higher than normal.</p>
<p>“<em>That</em> is why you're with me.” Derek had a deep frown on his face and seemed to reluctantly pull his hand back. </p>
<p>“What?” Stiles asked incredulously. “Also did you just soccer mom me?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Derek can be kind of a butthead but Stiles gets flustered easily

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OctopusHotdogs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OctopusHotdogs/gifts).



> A Christmas present for my best friend <3 I'm not good at art or making anything really but I like to think I'm good at writing and I hope you enjoy this! 
> 
> This didn't happen quite as I had planned, the story ran away from me (and it's about 3k longer than planned) but I'm pretty happy with the turnout. I do warn for a little possible OOC because it's been months since I've watched/read/written anything at all for tw...   
> P.S. I only read over this once, please excuse any mistakes but I needed this out by tonight. Also, Stiles is supposed to be about 17 in this fic, but idk where the canon divergence happens. Whatever. And Erica and Boyd are Derek's, the rest are Scott's, not sure if that's clear anywhere.

Derek stood, his shoulders heaving with his lungs, claws still extended and dripping blood into the pools of it gathering near his feet. Two bodies lay in shreds on the floor, the remnants of werewolves that dared cross into Beacon Hills territory, which was already shared by two alphas. Light from the half-moon outside came in through the broken windows of the abandoned shack and Stiles could only just make out the shape of the alpha moving towards him.

“Geez, Derek. You'd think they'd kidnapped your girlfriend, not some teenager who's just a friend of your betas,” Stiles muttered, managing to pull himself into a sitting position from where he'd been lying in a heap on the floor. Derek didn't answer, but he knelt beside the boy and cut the ropes that were binding his wrists before gripping Stiles' arms and tugging him to his feet.

“Are you hurt?” the werewolf asked him quietly.

“Not badly.” Stiles let Derek lead him from the shack and into the foggy night. “Thanks by the way. I mean, it's not everyday I get kidnapped by some creepy wolfies trying to steal our territory,” he laughed a little awkwardly, “but it's nice to know you've always got my back. Which is weird because normally I'd think Scott has my back, and he totally does in lacrosse and stuff, but whenever these things happen you're always the one to find me. Isn't that weird?”

“Stiles, shut up,” Derek interrupted him, looking around cautiously as they approached where he must have haphazardly parked the car before running inside.

“Wow, Mr. Big Strong Alpha doesn't like it when I ramble? Too bad for you that I am very tired and definitely not in the right state of mind and I can't really help but ramble when I've been scared shitless in a cold goddamn cabin straight from a horror movie for the past day and a half! Which reminds me I haven't gotten to eat anything since coming here and would you mind stopping by Taco Bell on our way?” All the while he'd been talking, Stiles had been half carried to the car and got in all by himself, though Derek had to reach over and buckle him in when Stiles just slumped down, talking to the roof. By the end of his speech, though, he turned towards Derek, who was finally starting the car, and gave him the most enthusiastic smile he could muster. “I could use a bean burrito or two, you know, to make me feel better.”

Derek rolled his eyes and drove through the trees, denying the teenager any sort of answer.

He ended up buying the damn kid three burritos plus a couple of tacos that Stiles told him were “for later”.

. . .

Stiles was gonna punch Derek in the face. Really hard. With a baseball bat or maybe a chair.

He sulked in the passenger seat of the Camaro, face flushed with anger and humiliation, plotting his revenge. Derek had picked him up after school, which would have been fine, except Stiles hadn't been expecting him, had been planning on going home for some much needed “me time”, and—when he refused the ride, politely—Derek had grabbed him by the back of the neck and shoved him bodily into the car. In front of everyone. Stiles was already dreading the ridicule he would probably find welcoming him the next day.

Really, though, he was dreading what was so important the Derek had to force him into coming along. Besides an ignored command of “Get in,” the wolf hadn't said a single word, just growled and grunted until Stiles gave up complaining and crossed his arms to sullenly stay silent for the remainder of the trip. He assumed it had something to do with the pack, considering all the wolves hadn't been at lunch that day or in their afternoon classes. Maybe Scott called a meeting and didn't tell him? Stiles had no idea, but just hoped they'd get wherever they were going soon so he could get either his alpha or possibly Erica to punch Derek for him.

Lost in his thoughts, it took Stiles a moment to realize that the werewolf's hand was suddenly splayed out on his chest, and a moment more to feel the car slowing down rapidly. He looked out the windshield, breath catching in a gasp. They came to a halt in time to see _something_ crouching low outside. Derek growled a warning and the thing shot off into the woods.

“What the hell was that?” Stiles nearly screeched, his voice an octave higher than normal.

“ _That_ is why you're with me.” Derek had a deep frown on his face and seemed to reluctantly pull his hand back.

“What?” Stiles asked incredulously. “Also did you just soccer mom me?”

Derek replied lowly, “It was instinct. Scott and I have been tracking that thing for the past couple of days and this morning it followed you and Scott to school. Your alpha can take care of himself, but I—we were worried you couldn't.”

“So you kidnapped me? You couldn't have just said that at the start?”

“Calm down.” Derek sighed very audibly. “It was right there at school, Stiles. I couldn't let you go on your own.”

Stiles was silent for a moment before he burst out, “Why does all this happen to me?! I'm the human here! I'm not special!”

With an inscrutable look, the werewolf told him, “It's because you are human that this is happening. A human in a werewolf pack is usually one that's highly treasured and protected. It's also a good way to get a pack after you if you hurt one.”

“So they want us—Scott?—to go after them? Why?” Stiles thought out loud, his mind racing. “Does it even understand pack dynamics? What _is_ it?”

“Stiles,” Derek started, laying a hand on the boy's forearm. “I don't have all the answers. Scott went to Deaton today to ask if he knows, and until we get something from him, we're all in the dark here.”

The human glanced down at the point of contact between him and Derek. A thousand words flooded into his mouth, but all that came out was a terse, “Okay.”

. . .

“Why did you have to be right?”

“Stiles, stop thinking out loud. Actually, stop thinking at all right now.”

“Not possible, Scotty my boy. You should know that by now.”

Scott rolled his eyes and poked his head above the ridge again. They were “taking cover”—definitely not hiding—behind where a log had fallen and caused a miniature rock slide years ago that ended up in a neat little dirt wall with round mossy boulders on which Stiles and his alpha were currently crouched.

They had discovered from Deaton that the things they'd been trying to track and chase out of Beacon Hills were in fact werewolves. They were, however, deformed horrifically, most likely feral, and permanently stuck in beta form as a result of their lycanthropy coming from spells which had gone wrong somehow. Scott had the theory that they might have been related somehow to the wolves which had come after Stiles a few weeks back and were trying to take revenge. Whatever the case, with two alphas and their betas, Stiles and the gang hadn't taken too long to find the invaders' hideout.

“There are definitely two in there, but I think there was another. The scent is old,” Scott said quietly, but loud enough so that Derek, Erica, and Isaac could hear him from their places within the trees a short ways behind him.

“So what now?” Stiles asked in a whisper, taking his own chance to glance above the tree trunk protecting them. He couldn't see anything but trees, and even then just a few as the nighttime fog was starting to come in.

“Now we plan our attack. Isaac, go get Boyd and Jackson, we'll need to make a plan with everyone before we do anything.” Scott's eyes flashed red suddenly and Stiles raised a brow. “Because Stiles is part of my pack and I'm not just going to barge into their hideout and risk them getting away.” He huffed a breath and turned back towards Stiles. “Stay here a minute, I'll let you know the plan when we have one.”

“What? Why can't I come? I'm good at planning!” Stiles protested, his voice still barely above a whisper.

Scott squeezed his shoulder with one hand and gave him a half smile. “You walk too loud, they might hear you.”

“Are you saying I've got big feet?”

With a grin, Scott replied, “Yeah, I am. Now stay down.” He squeezed Stiles one more time before moving away quickly and silently. He disappeared into the darkness after just a moment.

“Too loud, yeah right.” Stiles blew air out between his lips and leaned his back against the dirt and rock, legs sticking out over the boulders. His chest heaved a soft sigh and he tried to amuse himself by tapping his fingers against his knees. Barely a minute passed before he was bored out of his mind and was half tempted to disobey Scott's orders and go find everyone.

As soon as he had that thought, he heard the sharp snap of a twig behind him. Over the ridge. Not the direction where his pack and Derek's should have been. In fact the exact opposite direction. Stiles froze and listened hard. He slowly tilted his head up to see the log above him, his heart racing as fear pumped adrenaline through his veins. There was nothing right above him, but that didn't mean he was safe. To the contrary, besides the wall behind him, he was out in the open. Prey to anything that might be hunting him.

Why did Scott leave him alone? Stiles cursed internally and tried to be as silent as possible as he turned onto his knees. Slowly, ever so slowly, he raised himself up to look over the ridge and into the forest beyond. Another shot of adrenaline had him holding his breath as he took in the hunched over form that was quietly snuffling around some trees not twenty yards away. Stiles tried his damnedest not to be loud as he got his lungs to remember how to push out the air again, but it was difficult.

He couldn't stop the tiniest of gasps as his foot suddenly slipped on the moss he'd been trying to grip onto with his shoes. He caught himself on a couple of rocks, most of his weight now uncomfortably on one knee. During this two second mishap, Stiles' eyes had fallen in order to see what his legs were doing, and slowly he raised them back up. The werewolf was not where he'd been just seconds before. Stiles frantically looked around, trying to find him, praying that he'd simply gone away even though he _knew_ the wolf was still out there hunting.

Hunting him.

After another moment or two of looking around, Stiles located the wolf. He heard more than felt the breath that entered his lungs, loud in the silent forest. The wolf's head snapped up from where it had been sniffing the ground on all fours and looked directly at the human. Their eyes met and Stiles could only stare helplessly at the face of his impending doom.

“Oh, fuck,” he heard himself whisper.

The werewolf growled and stalked towards him a few steps at a time, cocking his head to watch Stiles struggle. The boy was wondering whether he'd have a better chance if he took shelter behind the ridge again or if he attempted to fight. It was useless either way. He was just a seventeen year old kid with bare fists and he was no match against a feral wolf. Just as he was starting to accept his inevitable fate, though, a figure suddenly jumped past him from behind, leaping easily over the ridge and landing with a loud growl. Stiles jerked back as the guy positioned himself directly between Stiles and the wolf, all but roaring a warning.

“Derek, wait!” Scott's shout came from behind Stiles and he spared a quick look over his shoulder to see all the packs' members but Derek running up. Of course, that meant Stiles knew exactly who was getting ready to lunge, claws extended, when he looked ahead again.

And he did lunge, growling as he grappled with the other wolf. Stiles couldn't keep track of who was who, the air filled with grunts and growls and the sound of ripping cloth and possibly flesh. Then, Derek was on the ground, his red eyes flashing in the darkness, and there were teeth way too close to his throat.

“Derek!” Stiles shouted, jumping to his feet like he could actually go over there and help. There was a hand on his bicep and he looked away from the fight to see Boyd next to him.

Meanwhile, there was more noise coming from his left and Stiles turned his head to see the other wolf Scott had mentioned running towards the party, Isaac and Erica ready and waiting. Jackson was behind them and Scott himself had gotten closer to Derek. But before he could lend a hand to help, Derek had flipped over, pinning the feral wolf to the ground and swooping in with one clawed hand for the killing blow. As soon as it had started, it was over. Isaac and Erica had taken care of the other wolf and were holding him to the ground, waiting for their alphas' orders. Derek was breathing hard as he got to his feet and looked towards Stiles, who had escaped Boyd and climbed over the tree to stride towards him.

“You stupid, dumb idiot! What the hell was that for? You could have gotten yourself killed!” Stiles shouted at him, no longer afraid of being loud. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears and the adrenaline was far from wearing off.

Derek gave him a look of pure annoyance, face more menacing then usual while shifted. “I was protecting you! You were in danger and what was I supposed to do, just let him kill you?”

“You didn't have to just jump right in! Jesus, Derek, just because you're an alpha doesn't mean you can risk your life every time something happens. You didn't have backup, not here, and not at that nasty shack three weeks ago. You never do. I'm not even in your pack!” Stiles tacked on his last words without meaning to, but they'd been on his mind for weeks. He'd been musing far too much about why in the world Derek would be doing so much for him. It wasn't because he needed Scott's trust, he already had that. He couldn't think of any reason Derek would want to get close to him. None of it made sense.

When he stopped his reverie, lest he revisit old thoughts he'd already thought a thousand times, he saw Derek looking at him with shielded eyes. Stiles didn't back down for a long few seconds, just stared back, trying to piece everything together in the back of his mind. Finally, he huffed and relaxed his tightly coiled muscles, glancing away quickly to see everyone else there, who had been watching carefully, start gathering together to figure out what to do about the other wolf. When it was just Stiles and Derek standing across the dead wolf's body, Stiles spoke again.

“For the record, I can protect myself sometimes, too.” He turned away and started walking back through the forest.

“Stiles, where are you going?” Scott called out after him.

“I'm going home.” He kept walking, even as Jackson came up next to him, falling into step.

“Wow, that was some lovers' tiff back there,” the beta said conversationally, though Stiles could almost feel the smirk on the dumb bastard's face.

There was more venom in his words than he had meant when Stiles muttered, “Shut up, Jackson,” but he didn't speak again, even once he reached where everyone had parked and Jackson let him go to drive himself home.

. . .

Stiles wasn't moping. Not one bit. Even as he sat on the couch, methodically shoving popcorn into his mouth by the handful as he watched a movie, he definitely was one hundred percent not moping. He glanced at his phone, sitting on the couch cushion beside him, lips turning down into a pout.

Okay, maybe like ten percent moping.

Stiles groaned and scrounged up another handful of glorious buttery goodness from the bowl on his lap and ignored the part of him that told him to pick up the phone and just _call_ for God's sake. Honestly, Stiles didn't know which was worse, the nerves rolling around his stomach or the cold stones in the pit of it that said he was being a little chickenshit.

The buzzing of his phone made him jump, and he cursed aloud as he picked it up, not even caring about the greasy fingerprints he was getting all over the screen. He threw the thing back down again after he read the text, which was from Allison, and simply asked, _Have you called him yet?_

Ever since Lydia and Allison returned from their little vacation to Lydia's lake house the weekend of the attack in the forest, Scott's girlfriend had been bugging him about his argument with Derek and if he was still going to invite the other alpha to his Christmas party the next week. Stiles wanted to, he was just being a drama queen about the whole situation, and he knew it, too. He had mixed feelings about his argument with Derek and hadn't talked to him since, which had made the packs' meetings really awkward the past two weeks.

He wished, not for the first time, that Allison had been home that weekend and could have done her cool Robin Hood thing, shooting that goddamn wolf before Derek could even get near it. Sighing, Stiles set the empty bowl of popcorn beside him and picked up his phone, staring at the blank screen for a long few minutes before quickly going and dialing Derek's number, holding the phone to his ear before he could change his mind and end the call. It took four rings for Derek to pick up.

“Yeah?”

Stiles took a sharp breath. “Hey, uh, Derek.” He winced as his voice came out sounding an octave higher than usual.

“What do you need, Stiles?” the werewolf asked him gruffly.

“I, uh, well—” He paused to swallow.

“Go on.”

“Do you want to come to my Christmas party next Friday?” Stiles got the words out as fast as he could and then held his breath, waiting.

It took Derek a moment to answer, and when he did, all he said was, “What?”

Stiles huffed quietly. “My Christmas party? Next Friday? You know, the one I already invited your betas to...”

Derek was silent. Then, “I don't know if I can make it.”

“Oh,” Stiles muttered, trying not to sound too let down even as he deflated, his shoulders hunching. “That's... that's okay. Don't worry about it. Next time, then.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Silence. “I need to go.”

“Oh, bye I guess.”

Derek didn't even grace him with a goodbye, but hung up, leaving Stiles to stare at his screen again for a while. Finally, he took a breath and opened a text to Allison. _He can't come,_ he sent to her.

Her reply was immediate. _I'm sorry Stiles :(_

Stiles didn't even try to deny to himself that he was moping as he sat back and tried to refocus on the movie still playing in front of him. He wished he had more popcorn.

. . .

Friday came fast and Stiles was soon side by side with Melissa, trying to put food on plates and in bowls, platters covering the counters of his kitchen. Stiles supposed tall the food came with the territory. Literally. There were five werewolves in his living room, plus three humans, and he wasn't even including himself and Scott's mom, not to mention his dad, who would get there late. Still it was worth it, getting everyone together under one roof—sans Derek that is—to celebrate the holidays.

“You've got that look on your face again,” Melissa said conversationally, her hands busy laying out cookies.

Stiles started, looking at her quickly. “What look?”

Smiling, she replied, “That look that says you've got something else on your mind. Is it because Derek isn't here?”

“What? No. Why would you think that? I don't care if he doesn't come.” Stiles resolutely looked at the block of cheese he was currently trying to cut through.

He could hear the skepticism in Melissa's voice as she said, “Yeah, definitely not.” Stiles glared at her. “Look, sweetie, I'm just waiting for the day you tell that boy you like him.”

Stiles scoffed and focused on his cheese with renewed fervor. “I do not like him. He's a mean, sullen, stupid, dumb werewolf.”

The doorbell rang just as Melissa laughed. “I'll finish this up, you get the door.” She gave him a smile and shooed him away.

Stiles was still huffing to himself and frowning as he opened the front door. “Derek?” He pulled up short, hand steadying him on the handle as surprise widened his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I had the time so I thought I'd stop by,” Derek said almost shyly, his shoulders shrugging. There was a small box in one hand that Stiles noticed as he moved to the side to let the Alpha in.

“Yeah? I thought you were busy.” Stiles asked him, still a little in shock that he was there.

Derek glanced around as he stood in the entryway. “I just got back from Colorado, actually.”

“Colorado? Why? I didn't even know you were gone! Jeez, no one tells me anything anymore,” Stiles muttered to himself as he shut the door. Neither he nor Derek moved further into the house, though.

The werewolf looked sheepish as he said, “I've only been gone a couple of days. I needed to get something.”

“From Colorado?”

Derek held out the box. “It's for you.” It was maybe half the size of a shoebox, black, and tied together with gold string. Stiles took it slowly. “Open it.”

Stiles gave him a confused look, but he slid the string over the corner so that he could take the lid off. Inside, resting neatly on a black satin bed, was a knife. The blade was maybe five inches and the handle was smooth white marble, curved and beautiful. Stiles looked up at Derek's face, not understanding.

“I have a sheath for it, too,” the alpha started. “It's a ceremonial blade, infused with silver and a little bit of magic, or so I'm told.” He took a breath and Stiles glanced back down at it. “You said you can protect yourself, and I know you can, but now you have something better to use than a baseball bat.”

“Derek.”

“I'm sure Allison or Chris can help you learn to use it.”

“Derek!” Stiles waited until the wolf was looking at him. “Thank you.” Derek looked like he was about to smile, but thought better of it. Stiles felt something on the tip of his tongue, something he knew he should say, but before he could even open his mouth, Erica bounded over.

“Der-bear, you made it!” she exclaimed, hanging on him in a hug for a moment.

Derek growled. “I told you not to call me that!'

“Aw, come on, it's cute!” Erica pouted. She grabbed his hand, sent Stiles a wink, and dragged him towards the living room where the rest of the guests were laughing raucously about something.

Stiles grinned as they left, thinking he'd have to use the nickname sometime in the future. Promising himself that he'd look closely at it later, Stiles put the lid back on the box and set it by the door, heading back to the party with a smile on his lips.

. . .

It was one in the morning and the house was silent. Stiles' dad was asleep in his room, the kitchen was clean, the guests all gone. Stiles himself was awake in his room, desk lamp on, the box Derek had given him resting there in front of him. He lifted the lid and set it to the side, admiring the knife a moment before reaching in to pick it up. Turning it this way and that, he watched the light reflect. He ran his thumb lightly along the sharp edge, hissing a moment later when it cut through his skin and he had to stick his finger his mouth to lick the blood away.

His phone buzzed from where it lay on his bed. Stiles set the knife down and scooted his chair close enough to grab it, surprised to see a text from Derek.

_I didn't get it so you could cut yourself with it._

“How did you...?” Stiles mumbled aloud. He looked around, heart beating a little bit faster until he looked out the window. Outside, he could see a dark figure resting against a tree. Rolling his eyes, Stiles stood and went to open the window. “Really?” he called out quietly, knowing the werewolf could hear him.

“Do you want your sheath?” Derek asked in response.

“Since you're here,” Stiles sat back in his chair as Derek clambered up and into his room. “How long have you been lurking out there?”

The werewolf shrugged. “I wanted to give this to you.”

“You couldn't have waited until tomorrow?” Stiles didn't expect an answer, and he didn't get one. But Derek reached into the inside pocket of the leather jacket he was wearing and pulled out a black leather sheath which Stiles took and immediately slid the knife into. There was a clasp on the back of the sheath that Stiles knew would clip perfectly to his belt.

Looking up at Derek, who was still standing by the window, now closed, Stiles said softly, “You didn't have to do this for me.”

“I wanted to,” the alpha told him, moving to sit on the edge of Stiles' bed. He looked like he was going to continue, but didn't open his mouth.

“Speak,” Stiles said with a half grin. More seriously, he added, “I'm always the one talking. Whatever's on your mind right now, you can say it.”

“About what you said that night...” Derek clasped his hands, leaning his elbows on his knees, and looked at the floor. “I know you're not part of my pack.”

Stiles scooted his chair a little closer without meaning to. Or so he tried to tell himself. “Derek, it's fine. I was just... saying stuff. I didn't mean it.”

“Stiles, let me say this.” The human had to fight himself to stay silent and nod, letting Derek continue. “I know you're not in my pack, but that doesn't mean I don't... it doesn't mean I want to you to get hurt. And you were right, I do put myself at risk a lot. But I do it to protect you. I protect my betas, and Scott and his.” Derek paused, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “And I know you're not a part of my pack. But I want you to be.”

Stiles stared at him, mouth slightly agape. “Uh.” Derek's eyes slid up and met his, though he didn't say anything more. “What are you trying to tell me? 'Cause I know you're telling me something, but I'm not picking up on it.”

Derek stood and took the couple of steps forward he needed to be standing just in front of him. He reached out a hand and laid it upon Stiles' cheek, guiding the boy's face up to look at him. Leaning down, he kissed Stiles with lips hesitant and gentle. He pulled away and Stiles looked between his eyes, trying to see something he couldn't explain. Once he was sure he'd seen it, Stiles surged to his feet, grabbing onto the lapels of Derek's jacket and tugging him into another kiss. This one was hard and sweet, made of the sliding of two pairs of lips that couldn't get enough, as if trying to speak to one another without using words.

“You want me?” Stiles breathed, barely pausing to take in another lungful of air before stealing several kisses in succession, gasping as Derek's hands went around his back and clutched him tightly.

There was as little space between them as could be when the werewolf whispered back, “Every day.”

“That why you're such a dick to me all the time?” The question came out as more of a huff than anything and Stiles felt himself grinning. Derek growled low in his throat and kissed the smile right off of him. Slowly, the alpha backed up, one step at a time, nearly carrying Stiles with him. It took three tries to separate themselves long enough for Derek to sit on the bed and get the teen in his lap, knees bracketing his hips.

“Is this okay?” Derek asked slowly as Stiles took the break to catch his breath.

“Yeah,” the human whispered, half of his mouth curling up. It rapidly fell a second later, though. “Why? Are you not okay? Do you wanna stop?” he said quickly, almost tripping over his words.

Derek slid his hands up Stiles' thighs and to his hips. “No,” he replied with a tiny twist of his lips. “Only if you want to stop.”

With a sigh of relief, Stiles tentatively rested his forearms on the werewolf's shoulders, hands clasping behind his head. “Definitely not. I've been waiting for this since forever.” Derek raised a brow and tried to hide a smile. “Okay, at least since I met you.”

“Really? That long? You were still in love with Lydia back then.”

Stiles shrugged. “Derek if you didn't already know this, you're literally the hottest guy to ever stalk me in the woods. That's not what I meant to say. You're really attractive, okay?”

Derek did smile then, and laugh lowly in his chest, tightening his grip on the boy's hips and stretching his head up to grab a kiss, which Stiles readily returned. Stiles could feel the scratch of the wolf's ever present stubble as he kissed the corner of Stiles' mouth and down to his chin, rubbing their cheeks together a moment before nosing at the underside of his jaw. A shiver trickled down his spine when Derek pressed a kiss right to his pulse point. Stiles tilted his head back, giving Derek space to work on his neck, laying out kisses and the occasional nip. He quickly had Stiles biting back a moan and grinding his hips in a stuttering pattern.

After a particularly sharp bite to the junction of Stiles' neck and shoulder, the teenager pulled himself away only to lean his face down and crush their lips together, rutting against the werewolf. Little noises were spilling from Stiles' mouth and he probably would have felt embarrassed if not for Derek's hands under his shirt, stroking up and down his sides and spreading heat along his skin. The push of his hips was more instinct than anything, and he kept it up as Derek started pulling him closer on every movement.

Derek was still wearing that stupid leather jacket and Stiles tried to push it off of his shoulders without breaking the easy slide of lips and tongues that they had going. Abruptly, the werewolf broke away himself and pushed at Stiles' body, twisting him around to fall onto his back on the bed. Derek shed his jacket and toed off his boots before crawling back atop the human. Lowering his head to kiss him again, Derek held himself up on his forearms and Stiles took the opportunity to let his palms rove over the wolf's back, fingers trailing along thick muscle.

“Fuck, Derek,” Stiles mumbled, only half-coherent.

“Still okay?”

Answering in a moan, Stiles arched his back, lifting his hips in an effort to get some kind of friction. “Yeah,” he finally said, “just... just do something!”

Derek laughed against his mouth and kissed him again, pulling at his bottom lip with his teeth. He kissed a path down Stiles' neck, shifting his body lower so he could push the teen's shirt up and kiss his belly. One of Stiles' hands threaded in his hair, the other cupping Derek's cheek. The werewolf brushed his mouth to the inside of his wrist and nuzzled his face into Stiles' palm for a moment, eyes meeting the human's. He moved back towards the waistband of Stiles' sweatpants, breath hot and hands warm as they slid across Stiles' bare hips to tug the fabric halfway down his thighs. Underneath he was wearing just briefs and Derek tilted his head, mouthing at the achingly hard flesh, frustratingly still covered.

Stiles had to slap one hand to his lips to muffle the loud moan that left his throat, worry that his dad was just down the hall suddenly coming to him. He was just about to mention something about it to Derek when the werewolf laved the flat of his tongue along Stiles' clothed dick and successfully interrupted his thought process. The hand still in Derek's hair tightened and the wolf grinned up at him, holding his hips down. With his teeth, Derek got a hold of Stiles' underwear and pulled them down, too, freeing his cock which was already leaking little beads of precome.

“You're so beautiful,” Derek whispered, eyes dark as they met Stiles'.

The human groaned softly at the liberation from clothing and lifted his head to look at Derek. “You say as my dick is in front of your face.” He relaxed back into the mattress.

Derek just kissed the top of his thigh where it met his pelvis and pressed his nose into the v of Stiles' hips, trailing his lips across the skin lightly. Stiles forgot how to make his lungs work at the first puff of air and brush of lips against the head of his dick. He was flushed across his chest and up to his cheeks and he was glad Derek was digging his thumbs into the flesh around his hips, holding him in place. It was only Derek's grip that stopped him from thrusting into the air as the wolf licked up the underside of his cock. He tongued at the slit, making Stiles jerk, and kept him still while the human palmed at the back of his skull.

“Der—” Stiles started to say his name, but he cut himself off by biting his lip as the alpha suddenly sucked the whole head into his mouth, slowly starting to take more of Stiles' cock. Breathy moans continually fell from Stiles' throat, his muscles flexing as he tried to fight the hold Derek had on him. He needed to move, needed to get a better handful of Derek's hair, needed to figure out how to breathe again. Because _Jesus Christ_ Derek's mouth on him was the most incredible feeling he'd ever experienced, but it was also going to kill him very _very_ soon. Or at least make him come embarrassingly quickly.

“Derek, Derek,” Stiles almost chanted, his voice barely above a breathless whisper. “You gotta—I need—Derek.”

But the werewolf continued as if he hadn't heard, which Stiles knew was bullshit. In just a few moments, Derek had created a rhythm, bobbing his head and Stiles was going to die from his tongue alone. He lifted his head to get a better look, half of his brain barely comprehending that Derek freaking Hale was currently sucking his dick like a pro and he was about to blow his load just at the thought of that. He dropped his head after a particularly hard suck, right as Derek hit some tiny little spot that sent a full on shudder throughout Stiles' body and down his legs. But a moment later he was back, looking down and muffling a moan as he saw red eyes staring up at him.

He came not two seconds later, no warning, just an overwhelming wave that he could feel bending his back and seizing up his muscles. Derek just helped him through it, pulling away only when a whine left Stiles' throat to surge up and kiss him with swollen lips. Stiles ran his hands down the werewolf's shoulders and his chest to the jeans he was wearing, quickly undoing the button and zipper and working to get Derek's cock free before losing all motor capability in the afterglow. He wrapped his hand around the hard flesh, feeling satisfaction at the low groan that Derek breathed into his mouth. It took just a few strokes and a twist of his wrist to get Derek to come with a growl, spilling onto his stomach and his hand.

When Derek could no longer hold himself up, he fell to the side, one arm stretched across Stiles' chest. They lay in silence for a long few moments, trying to get their lungs to work properly again. Stiles traced his fingertips lightly across Derek's arm before hesitantly resting his hand over the wolf's. He smiled as Derek nuzzled his nose against Stiles' shoulder, which he was using as a pillow. There were a million things racing through the human's mind and he turned his head enough to look at the top of Derek's head in the low light.

“So, uh, I guess this means you like me, right? Or did I misunderstand the whole 'I want you in my pack' thing?” Stiles said softly.

Derek propped himself up on one elbow, leaning in just close enough to whisper in Stiles' ear. “I really like you, Stiles.”

The teen grinned giddily. “I never thought I'd hear those words. I like you, too. If that wasn't obvious. Which I hope it was, but I mean—” Derek shut him up with a kiss. They both froze a second later, though, heads turning at the same time when there was a banging on Stiles' door.

“Look, I know you're a teenage boy and you need your alone time... But seriously Stiles, could you keep it down next time?” the sheriff's voice came tiredly through the door.

“Uh, sorry?” Stiles called out. They waited until his footsteps faded down the hallway before turning back to each other. Stiles was the first to break, giggling so hard he had to turn his head and bury his laughter in Derek's shoulder. The werewolf's chest shuddered with quiet laughter, too, and he rested his lips in Stiles' hair.

“Next time we'll stay at my place,” Derek told him. Stiles pulled away, his giggles subsiding into hiccups and he kissed Derek with a smile.

“Sounds good to me.”

. . .

The next morning, Derek left with a goodbye kiss and not twenty minutes later, Stiles' phone was buzzing. He picked it up from his desk and went to flop down on his bed, which still smelled like sex and Derek. Erica was calling him and he answered casually with a, “Hey Erica.”

Suddenly, he was bombarded with her shrieking, “OH MY GOD. YOU AND DEREK DID IT LAST NIGHT. I CAN SMELL YOU ALL OVER HIM!”

“That's a little creepy,” Stiles tried to say, laughing at her joyful little screeches.

“I'm so proud you two finally pulled your heads out of your asses,” Erica cooed. “Now I need to go tell everyone, I'll call you later!”

“No, wait, Erica!” Stiles yelled in vain, but she'd already hung up. He sighed and deflated, grabbing hold of his pillow with one arm. A minute later, his phone went off again, but this time it was a text from Derek.

_She'll calm down soon. Tomorrow night, pizza after the pack meeting?_

Stiles could feel himself grinning as he replied an affirmative, holding back a laugh that threatened to escape his throat just for the hell of it. 

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, it didn't turn out as Christmas as I wanted... but too bad!
> 
> Happy Holidays everyone!


End file.
